Soul Drifters
by Degan
Summary: Stories of Spike and Faye prior to and during the series and after The Real Folk Blues prt II. Spoilers, R&R, SxF. WIP
1. Prolouge: The Star Crossed Lovers

A/N: Ok, I know I have two other stories going on right now, but events in my life recently give me special perspective on this one. You guys know the drill, so...

* * *

I don't suppose that things like this happen everyday.

How can they? How can somebody both admit to something and then loose everything that matters to them in the space of a few hours.

Damn him, damn her, damn all three of them.

Damn me for telling him what she said. Maybe if I'd just kept quiet he'd still be here.

No, he'd have found out somehow.

My pistol is sitting in my hand still, one round still in the chamber. It's tempting to just put it to my temple and pull the trigger, then it'd all be over. No more pain, no more suffering.

So simple.

So easy, just put it here, give it a little squeeze.

Just a little more...

No.

I'm done running. And I'm not just going to sit around either.

"JET!"

"What?" comes the gruff voice. I can hear the same hints of sorrow in his voice, hints that he won't admit to having.

I rush up to the bridge, snatching his pistol from the table he had left it. "How bad is the Redtail? Could it make a trip across the plains and back?"

He looked at me curiously. He knew what I was planning. He had to; he was smarter than he let on.

Just like Spike.

"No, it won't. That thruster is so bad it'd fail before you made it out of the hanger."

The world just paled, went grey. Then I heard a clinking sound and looked up at the table I had leaned against.

The key to Jet's Hammerhead was sitting on it, just inside my reach.

"Don't let him know I gave it to you," he said, turning back to finish the diagnostics on the Bebop.

I smiled, grabbing the key and rushing over to him. I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, seeing him turn red before I ran pell-mell for the hanger.

The ship was old, and it didn't handle as smoothly as my Redtail, but it had speed to burn and room for two. It cut through the atmosphere like a knife, the sonic disturbance cracking and booming behind me as I pushed its engines into the redzones, using the rotation of the planet to add to my speed as well.

I landed next to the Swordfish and raced into the building, seeing the destruction and the bodies.

He'd been busy.

I came to a room with a staircase and a group of people milling about. I saw a figure coming down the steps, holding his gut. I recognized that mat of spiky hair.

Spike.

He stopped near the bottom of the stairs and looked at the people surrounding him, who were looking at him like he was a ghost. I began pushing my way through the group, trying to get to him.

He spied me, and smiled. He raised his hand, pointing it at me like it was a gun.

"Bang," he rasped, just before he collapsed.

Blood started to spill across the steps, and I hauled Jet's pistol out and pointed it at the nearest person.

"Call an ambulance, now!"

Something in my face must have convinced him, because he sure wasn't running because of the nine millimeter I was holding.

I rolled his battered form over, my red sweater coming off and going over his wound. It was ragged, deep. He was in bad shape, as bad if not worse then when he rescued me from the church.

The day I first realized that there was something for him simmering in my heart.

"Don't you dare die on me, you bastard." I mumbled at him. "I'll bring you back just so I can kill you myself."

He had a smile on his face, one of peace, one that I had never seen on his face before. He was still conscious, if barely. He was mumbling words, words that I couldn't make out.

"Hold on just a bit longer, just a few more minutes." I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wanted to force them back, to deny that they existed.

No.

No more running from anything.

I heard the distant sound of a siren, the wailing of sorrow and sympathy. Spike was fading, and I didn't want the last thing he'd hear to be that sound, the sound of death.

I leaned close to him, and kissed him, and whispered in his ear the words I had tried to force out back on the Bebop.

"I love you,"

"Faye," he rasped. So weak, would he make it?

"Don't you dare die," I said again. "I'm not ready to be alone again."

* * *

It was a fight to remember, and I'm lucky I won.

I stumbled down the stairs, holding the wound on my stomach. It was bad, it had almost cut open my stomach and narrowly missed spilling out my intestines. As it was, I'd die from blood loss eventually.

_I did it, Julia, you can rest easy now._

Funny, I couldn't picture her face. It had haunted me for years, but now I couldn't bring it up.

But hers did. Hair so black it approached indigo, eyes that held a carefully constructed façade of cynicism and pragmatism. Eyes that held back tears as I left the ship I had called home for so many years.

There were soldiers at the bottom of the stairs. I could see them, staring at me in awe. No one had stood up to Vicious before and lived.

_"So, you're finally awake. I told you before, Spike, I'm the only one that can kill you and set you free."_

His words to me as we faced off. Funny how they were so correct, so right. Now he was dead, and I was soon to join him.

Would I end up in Heaven?

With my track record, I'd probably not have to worry about needing a lighter again.

I tried to picture Julia again, but failed again, seeing Faye in the crowd.

I must be dying, I'm hallucinating. Then it hits me, she's really there, trying to save me like I had her months ago.

Silly girl, didn't she realize I was dead?

I raised my hand, pointing it at her like she had pointed her gun at me as I walked away.

"Bang," I say just before my legs give out on me.

Images began to roll across my vision. Faye coldly telling someone to get an ambulance. Julia holding a gun on me in the cemetery.

Funny, her face was clouded. She embodied the one thing that I actually cared about, the one thing that I actually showed emotion over and I couldn't picture her face now.

Julia was an interesting person. She was both, the most heart wrenching and the happiest memory I had. With her I had experienced both the highest highs and the lowest lows. No one else had managed to make me feel that way in all the years I had lived.

But Faye, she was different.

She had taken me back to the Bebop after I blew the church to hell that day. I was in horrible shape, aching all over.

Had I thanked her?

No, I had just told her she was humming off key.

What a moron I was.

And now she was trying to patch me up again.

"Thank you," I mumbled, but I wondered if she heard me, I was so tired. I just wanted to go to sleep, to rest.

I had to tell her. I didn't want to leave without letting her know.

"Faye, I don't know if I had ever told you before, but you are the most annoying person I've ever met. All you are is attitude, greed, and self-preservation.

"But I know that's just a show, a shell you put up to protect yourself. I know because I did it too, did it for years. I even did it with Julia. It was supposed to help keep me from getting hurt, like I had when my parents were gunned down. I don't even remember my mother's face, what she looked like anymore, how she sounded.

"But it doesn't work, does it? Somehow, someone always manages to get in under that armor, past whatever defenses you erect and bury themselves in your side until you can't be without them. The thought of being without them makes you sick.

"That's why I came after you in the church. I kept telling myself it was to avenge Mao and Annie, and it was to a degree, but would I have come so strongly if you hadn't been foolish enough to get caught?"

I smiled as a thought crossed my mind. "I'm dying, in more ways than one. Spike won't live past this day. But maybe I will. Spike was a name I took on when I joined the Red Dragons, something that would work with my image. Vicious was right, he set me free, and killed me."

I felt a pair of lips on mine, and I recognized the scent of the perfume as it drifted into my nose. A voice whispered in my ear, drowning out the sounds of the siren. "I love you," it said.

"Faye,"

No, I wasn't going to lie down and fade out. I wasn't ready yet.

I must have passed out for a moment, because the next thing I knew I was being hoisted onto a gurney, an IV in my arm and the voices of paramedics chattering around me.

"Faye," I rasped. I had to tell her.

The medics began to cluster around me, working fast. I tried to sit up, only to have them try to push me back down again. I struggled, calling out again.

"Faye!"

I saw her face next to me, her hand grabbing mine. She had tears in her eyes.

Faye crying?

I felt a sting, and the world tipped, turning black.

The last thing I saw was her face, mouth forming words I couldn't make out.

The last thing I felt was her hand gripping mine like it was a lifeline.

* * *

"He's a tough bastard," the doctor said as he studied the chart.

I looked at him, feeling my hair brush against the nape of my neck. It needed to be washed. I could use a good shower. I hadn't left this room, this chair in three days.

I brushed a hand across his face. It was still pale, his flesh translucent. He'd been hurt badly.

"He'll be alright in another day or two, and then we'll take the sedative out of the drip. Otherwise he'd have climbed out of that bed and reopened his stitches. I've never seen anyone so determined."

I smiled. That was him alright.

"Are you family, Miss?"

"No, I'm..." What was I to him?

We certainly weren't lovers, or anything else. I realize that we were family, after a sort. We looked out for each other, all of us.

Jet had become the father I had lost, the big brother that I never had.

Ed was, well, Ed was Ed. She always kept me from taking things too seriously. I wondered what happened to her and Ein.

And Spike was...

What?

* * *

I dreamed for the longest time. Most of them were dull, uninteresting things.

But some had her. Some were memories, others hopes.

A voice came to me, dimly, like through a wall of cotton.

"I'm a close friend. We've known each other for a long time, and I worry about him a lot."

Faye, talking to a doctor.

The doctor told her something that I couldn't make out. He was too far away.

"Faye," I said, forcing my eyes open.

She was leaning over me instantly, her eyes worried. The doctor was there too, a jolly looking man with a bald head.

"Yeah, Spike, what is it?"

I smiled.

"You need a shower,"


	2. Session 1: Miranda

_At the end of the day, the end of the light,  
She keeps the remains of all of her foes.  
Miranda is dying with all of her might,  
She never comes, she always goes_

_She sticks the camera right into her arm,  
Anything to forget what the trouble's about.  
It causes her pain, that's part of the charm,  
She's down for the count, and finally out._

_Miranda is taking the stars down,  
A little something to call her own,  
But the lion still rules Miranda,  
And Miranda is always alone._

The band was pretty good; the song was an old one from the turn of the century. The fingerpicked guitar weaved a simple melody that showed a hint of sorrow, of mourning. It was a bouncing song that sounded happier than the lyrics meant it to be.

It was just like the bounty head I was hunting down. Seventy thousand woolongs, nothing big, but just enough to get that new stabilizer for the Swordfish, something I needed badly.

I blew out a cloud of smoke, peering through it to the woman across the bar from me. She had short, curly red hair, a killer body, and a look or pure sorrow in her eyes. She kept glancing over her shoulder as though she was being hunted.

Perceptive.

I wondered again when I had stepped into this life, this position just beyond the law. Was it after my parents had been shot outside the store they had operated, or was it when I joined the Red Dragons to get revenge?

I didn't know, and I didn't really care anymore. Bit by bit, everything had been stripped from me, so I refused to care anymore. A comrade had once commented on what he had seen as bravery.

"It isn't, Matt. You have bravery, courage. I just don't give a damn. Live, die; win, loose; it's all the same to me. There's a difference between that and bravery."

Maybe it had been true then. But not now, not since…

Leave it. That's the past. It belongs there, where it can be buried and left behind.

Like my real name.

I stubbed out my cigarette, resettling my jacket sleeves on my arms. My pistol was tucked into the inside pocket, the grip just inches from my waiting hand.

The woman got up and headed for the door, pulling a long wool coat over her shoulders. I got up and followed her at a respectable pace, making sure that I kept a few people between us at all times. I wasn't going to grab her tonight; I was going to scout out her haunts, where she went on a normal day. With no record of her picture on file, just a description and a list of hobbies and crimes, it was a sure bet that no other cowboy would find her before I collared her.

Because I knew exactly who she was. She was a face from my past.

Or rather, from someone's past. I didn't have one.

She would be shocked to see the shell that my heart had become, but it was her damn fault. No one deserved to be hurt like that. Let her burn, wherever she is. If I see her again, I'll gun her down where she stands.

The woman arrived at a run down building, the kind of flophouse that you could rent a room for pocket change but was still respectable enough that no one would think to look for you there.

So, of course, that was where us cowboys always looked first. The figure stood, a small pistol in his hands. He called out for the woman to freeze, pistol pointed at her but not trained on her.

Idiot.

He fell dead as a small knife plunged into his face between the eyes. The woman, the show of timidness and fear having dropped for a moment to be replaced by a look of a professional assassin, scanned the area for witnesses. None, since I had dropped into a store and was gazing through the tinted window at her.

Miranda hadn't lost her edge a bit.

I reflected back on the orders I had been given when I had taken on this contract. This would be difficult. I left the store, entering the building and inquired as to the room number of the young lady that had just entered.

I knocked on the door, and heard the voice call out 'What?'

"It's Spike," I said.

The door flew open, her face a mask of surprise. "I heard you were dead," she said, giving me a hug that would probably be bad for her image. Her eyes flashed wide as she felt the barrel of my pistol against her ribs.

"You, a cowboy?"

I smiled the smug, mysterious smile that always drove people insane. "Yeah, you could say that."

I pulled the envelope from my jacket and handed it to her. "This is from Mao. He's the one that posted the seventy thousand on your head and made sure that your picture never showed up on any of the posts."

She took the envelope and opened it, seeing the bills and documents that were within.

"He wants you to get off Mars before the Syndicate tracks you down," I said as I tucked my pistol away. "He's got kind of a soft spot for you."

She looked at me, still not convinced.

"What about you?"

I shrugged. "You know me, as long as I've got a gun and a buck, I'm good."

She laughed. "Ah yes, the ultimate pragmatist." She looked down for a moment.

I was gone like a wraith before she looked up again. I hate long goodbyes.

I wondered where I was going to get that stabilizer from. Not many shops carried parts for my baby.

I lit a cigarette and looked up as the rain stopped. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Another days shuck, another days buck.


	3. Session 2: Haunted

What the hell had I been thinking? I had to have been drunk at the time.

I was standing on a stage in some dingy bar, a microphone before me and a small vidscreen off to the side showed the lyrics to a song I had chosen. It had been a favorite of mine, though I don't remember when I first heard it or came across it.

The music began playing, and I counted down the beats till I came in.

_Ba da pa pa. Ba da pa pa...  
Come here, pretty please  
Can you tell me where I am?  
You won't you say something?  
I need to get my bearings  
I'm lost, and the shadows keep on changing  
  
And I'm haunted  
By the lives that I have loved  
And actions I have hated  
I'm haunted  
By the lives that wove the web  
Inside my haunted head  
  
Ba da pa pa, ba da pa pa...  
  
Don't cry, there's always a way  
Here in November in this house of leaves we'll pray  
Please, I know it's hard to believe  
To see a perfect forest  
Through so many splintered trees  
You and me, and these shadows keep on changing  
  
And I'm haunted  
By the lives that I have loved  
And actions I have hated  
I'm haunted  
By the lives that wove the web  
Inside my haunted head  
  
Ba da pa pa, ba da pa pa...  
  
Come here  
No I won't say please  
One more look at the ghost before I'm gonna make it leave  
Come here  
I've got the pieces here  
Time to gather up the splinters, build a casket for my tears  
  
And I'm haunted  
By the lives that I have loved  
And actions I have hated  
I'm haunted  
By the promises I've made  
And others I have broken  
I'm haunted  
By the lives that wove the web  
Inside my haunted head_

_Ba da pa pa, ba da pa pa..._

It's been so long since I heard that song, I was amazed that I could still remember how it went. And of course, all the guys were hooting and hollering.

Heh. Maybe I should have put out a tip jar. I'm sure I could have made a few woolongs. Then I could hit the dog track, hit it big and pay off that debt.

Damn Whitney. Damn his lying ass to Hell. I should have known at the time what was going on.

I return to my table and begin sipping on the cosmopolitan that had been deposited there during my song. It was cold, and made with first class alcohol.

I looked across the room at a man with an expensive jacket and suit. I eyed his clothing, mentally picking out where his wallet was, if he was armed, things such as that. It would be so easy to pick his pocket, charm him a bit, then as we stumbled to his car, I'd pocket his wallet, and when he passed out drunk I'd just slip out, no muss, no fuss.

But he's cute. Maybe I'll actually let things progress a bit before leaving. It's been lonely the last six months.

It's not that I'm like that, but a woman gets lonely from time to time. I'm sure there are guys out there that feel the same. Well, some single guys at least.

Sure enough, he's impressed when I come over and ask if I can sit with him. He's had a few Vodka martinis tonight already, and he is visibly flustered as I sit next to him and turn my charm on full.

I know I have a good body. I would go as far to say that I have a hell of a body, but I'm modest. Mostly. And the skirt and blouse I had put on before heading out did nothing to detract and everything to add. The blouse was sleeveless with a keyhole neckline; the skirt was clingy, slit to the thigh on the left side. I had a pale turquoise headband holding my dark hair back from my face.

And just as I had planned, we got up a few more martinis and cosmopolitans later, heading for his car. My hand dipped into his pocket and retrieved his wallet as we headed up the steps to his flat. He opened the door, ushered me in, and proceeded to pass out in the foyer.

I looked at his snoring form, flabbergasted.

Well, at least I'd get some cash out of this deal. I open his wallet and pull out a few of the higher denomination bills out and slip it back into his pocket before dragging him to the couch.

Time to hit the tracks.

This time I'd win for sure.

Whistling tunelessly, I went back downstairs and hailed a taxi.

_One day, maybe I'll meet someone, someone kind and loving. And rich. _

I snorted. That'll be the day, what with my luck being what it had been as of late.


	4. Interlude: Drinks and a Dance

A/N: Just for clarification purposes, I'm going to do two tales from the past then a present. 

* * *

I looked up from my whiskey sour as she paused. I smiled at her, seeing her shaking her head ruefully.

We were sitting in a small club, sipping drinks and trading stories from before we'd met, stories of our pasts. Something we had never done before, something I had started with telling her about my eyes that day on the Bebop.

I always suppress a shiver when I think about that day. I had come this close to loosing her, to missing out on this, and I would never have known it either, never known what I had missed out on. It had been her chasing me down and getting me medical aid that made this possible.

"Why stop there, Faye? How'd you do at the tracks?" I couldn't resist asking her.

She looked at me as she sipped her cosmopolitan, an indigo eyebrow arching.

"How do you think, Spike?"

I chuckled. Badly, as she always did. "You need to learn when to walk away, Faye. Pushing your luck is a sure way to loose."

She started laughing at that one. "This, coming from you? Don't make me laugh, Spike. You push your luck more than anyone I know."

I cocked and eyebrow as my smirk grew fully. "What do you mean? I always quit while I'm ahead in a casino."

"But not with your life. How many times since we've known each other have you been dragged back to the Bebop by Jet or me, covered in bandages?"

Now I began chuckling ruefully. She had me, and I was man enough to admit it.

A ballad came on the PA, and I held my hand out to her as I stood. "Would you like to dance?"

She looked at me, like I was playing some grand prank on her, then stood, putting her hand in mine.

It was so different, now. I was still cocky and sarcastic, but when we were out together, it was almost like I was a different person, like we were different people. We dropped the constant sarcasm, the pragmatism and nonchalance. We became two normal people, a normal couple out on the town.

As we start dancing, I look into her eyes and begin to smile, seeing my face mirrored in her green orbs.

Who would have thought that I'd find some sort of peace, and with her of all people?

"Woolong for your thoughts?"

I looked at her. "Just thinking that when we met, women with attitudes were one of three things I couldn't stand, ranking right up there with animals and children."

"And now?"

I grinned, kissed her.

"What do you think?"

* * *

He slid his arms tighter around me, pulling me closer. We had both dressed up a bit for this date. He'd tied his tie and turned down his collar.

I put on a flattering skirt and a simple blouse, my sweater draped across my shoulders and left open. I rested my head against his chest, one hand on his shoulder and the other tucked behind his back. A trumpet began to sing out a solo, reminding me of a group I had been fond of as a child. The title of the song tried to come to the surface of my thoughts, but all I could think of was how I felt at this moment.

At peace, for the first time in years I was calm. Oh, I still had moments of anger at him. He was still Spike, after all. I mean, the first thing he told me when he woke up in the hospital was 'You need a shower,' in a voice that hinted at that being the reason why he'd woken up. That man, he was trouble incarnate.

It'd been three months since he'd faced down Vicious. In those three months we'd fixed up the Bebop, returned to the game, with the usual luck. Jet had taken to mainly piloting the ship. His leg just wasn't up to chasing down bounty heads anymore, as he claimed. He spent hours with his bonsai now, trimming and transplanting to his heart's content.

Ed and Ein had wandered back to the ship just before we had lifted off that first time. She had missed the warm bunk she had, and she said that Ein kept asking about us.

How she and the dog talk is beyond me. I've long since given up trying to figure out that child. But she's a big help with the hunt, being able to get into various computer systems and whatnot. I've been tempted to ask her if she can hack into the computers that hold the information on my debt and delete it.

Maybe when we get back tonight. Well, tomorrow morning. I'm sure that we won't be going straight back to the Bebop unless there aren't any rooms available at the local hotel.

I could hear his heart beating, a little faster than the normal slow pulse it usually had. I can't get over that, the fact that his heart still beats a little faster when we're together. I fight a smile, knowing that my heart still skips a beat or two when he smiles that genuine smile of his, not the cocky one, the one that makes you think he has all the answers and just isn't telling you out of spite.

The real one. The one that he only showed me.

Just as he only told me his real name. But I still called him Spike. I'd known him for almost three years under that name, it was ingrained in me. Plus, with his hair, it fit. But it's the trust that he's showing me that makes the little gestures mean so much.

The song ends, and we make our way back to our table. He pulls my chair out for me, something he had never done before that day. I'm pretty sure he means it.

But you never know with him. Sometimes he still has that joking 'Devil May Care' attitude about things.

But I wouldn't have it any other way. Just like he wouldn't dare have me give up my no-nonsense attitude for anything. They were parts of us, what made us what we were, who we were. We fit together like gears in a clock, having gaps that the other filled. He was the stability I needed; I was the spontaneity, the love of life that he had been without. And we spoke the same language, the language of the bounty hunters.

Now, if we could actually collar something besides the small fry.

* * *

I wonder how she's going to take the little surprise I have for her later tonight. She's got a pickpocket's eyes, so hiding this from her was quite a trick. I just hope she likes it. I've never had great luck with picking this kind of thing out.

I can still feel the box in my jacket pocket, away from prying eyes of emerald. Inside, nestled in the velvet of the case, was a silver and diamond creation picked out with the discrete help of an old friend of mine. I have it in my mind to slip it into one of the pockets in her sweater on our way to the hotel room.

She isn't the only one with quick fingers.

She catches the look on my face, and perks up one of those delicate eyebrows again. She doesn't even have to say a word, I know she's wondering what's going on in my head.

"Just thinking on how close I came to missing out on this," I say, glad that I was able to lie convincingly since I was five.

"Right," she said, tilting her head forward, her hair framing her face.

Convincingly to everyone but her.

Damn women's intuition.

When did jewelry as a surprise gift become so hard to pull off?


	5. Session 3: Black Dog

"Ready to give up yet?"

I smirked. I may be outnumbered five to one, but there was no way I was going to give up the unconscious bounty head at my feet. I kept the Jericho in my hand but didn't point it at anyone. The fools were all almost within arms reach.

"Why should I give up? The five of you aren't enough to make me ready to give up fifty mil. Unless you have the cash on you?"

One of the thugs stepped forward, his pistol extended. I smiled.

He never saw my foot as it slammed into the side of his head. He flew sideways into one of his pals, and I ducked low, sweeping the feet out from under a third thug.

Then all Hell broke loose.

I was about to take out number four when the stuttering of an H&K MP5 broke out. I heard the bullets striking the pavement behind me and I barely dove out of the way in time, my feet sliding on the slick concrete. I glanced back just to be sure that the bounty head hadn't been holed. Good, he was still in one piece.

The Jericho was barking now, firing back at where the automatic fire was coming from. The bullets started to track up, and I ducked for cover, but stopped when they continued tracking up into the sky. But now I had a new problem.

Remember those guys I knocked over at the start of this? They were back on their feet and pissed.

And twice my size.

And out of my reach.

Shit.

Now it was a quick draw contest.

I took the first one out with a shot in the forehead, but the slide locked back after I pulled the trigger. I tried to duck out of the way and reload at the same time, but I knew that it wasn't going to happen and shut my eyes.

I heard the gunshot, prepared for the pain of the wound, and wondered where I'd end up when I opened my eyes again.

It was a few seconds before I realized that I also heard the sound of a body falling.

Funny, I don't remember falling over. I opened my eyes and saw the second gunman on the ground, a tall, broadly build man standing behind him, a Walther P99 in his hands.

I looked at him, the balding head, the beard, the spacer's suit and armored boots. He had a bionic arm and some sort of patch under one of his eyes. I recognized his type immediately. Another cowboy.

"So, what's your story?" I asked. "You want him too?"

"Actually," he said in a gruff voice. "I was just passing by and thought I'd lend a hand. I recognized those thugs and knew that they weren't stopping a mugging."

I nodded. "Well, thanks for your help, I'll see you later."

The man looked at me. "That's it?"

I turned back around. "What do you want, a ticker tape parade?"

"Let me tell you a story," he said, pocketing the pistol. "There once was a tiger-striped cat. This cat died a million deaths and was reborn a million times and was owned by various people who he didn't care for. The cat wasn't afraid to die. One day, the cat was a free, a stray cat. He met a white female cat, and the two cats spent their days happily together. Years passed, and the white cat died of old age. The tiger-striped cat cried a million times, and then died. It never came back to life."

I looked at him. "I hate cats," I said simply.

He shook his head. "Don't you get the point of the story?"

"I don't need to. I am the tiger striped cat, and I've died a couple of times already."

He cocked an eyebrow at me, looking at my threadbare clothes. "I believe you." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "What I'm trying to say, if you'd care to listen, is that I wouldn't mind taking on a partner. Seeing your moves, I think we'd be good together."

I looked at him. "I had a partner once," I said.

"And?"

"Like I said, once. I don't talk about my past, for good reasons." I slung the bounty head over my shoulder. "So thanks for your help, and thanks for the story."

He smiled. "So how are you going to get him to the ISSP?"

I stopped short. "What do you mean?"

"Well, from your looks, I'd say you have a small one man ship, right?"

"Yeah, and old Swordfish racer."

"So how you going to fit him in there as well?"

I stared at nothing.

"Shit."

He smiled at me. "Come on, I'll give you a lift, if you'll consider my offer."

I shook my head. "You don't give up, do you?"

"Nope."

"Good. Neither do I."

He led me to a large converted fishing boat. It had the word Bebop painted across its hull.

"That hunk of junk still floats?"

"That hunk of junk is my home, buster." He crossed his arms and I was aware that he could probably snap me in half with that bionic replacement.

"So, you got room on there for my Swordfish?"

"Probably. You staying long?"

I smiled. "As long as there's woolongs coming in."

He smiled back. "Good to have you aboard. Jet Black."

"Spike."


	6. Session 4: Faint Stirrings

I suppose that it was bound to happen eventually.

I mean, with my past – or lack thereof – it was no stretch of the imagination that I would eventually meet someone that played just as fast and loose with life as I did. And I felt a hundred different things when his name was mentioned.

I hated him for his smugness.

I felt kinship with him for his lack of a past.

I was taken with his looks, the casual way he treated everything but managed to still look damn handsome.

I hated the fact that despite his attitude and how much I wanted to hate him, he began to haunt my thoughts after a while, and I enjoyed those thoughts.

The last thing I needed, of course. Attachment, something to make me think about anything but number one on my list.

I stared across the room at his frame, stretched full length on a couch that was a tad too short for him but it didn't seem to bother him any. He had a cigarette in his mouth, the soft thread of smoke just drifting up towards the fan. His eyes were shut, but I knew he was awake. He always was, more often than not.

And in his hand, twirling between his long fingers, was the key to my Redtail.

"Damn it, Spike, give me that damn key!"

"Why, Faye? In a hurry to go somewhere?"

"No, not really," I said. I didn't want him to know anything about the tip Edward had given me.

"Then why are you so anxious to get this key?"

I fumed. "You dammed Lunkhead! That is _MY _ship and if I want to go for a trip in it, than that's _MY _business."

"Not according to my sources," he said, cracking an eye and giving me that smirk.

I hated that smirk.

But at the same time, it made parts of me feel weak, like I was standing on rubber legs or had a stomach full of hot soup.

But at this moment, I was just mad through and through. "Edward," I growled.

"Nyum?" came the reply from behind the couch, where she was napping.

"I thought I told you not to tell _anyone _about what you told me!"

Her head poked up and over the back of the couch, hanging upside down. "Faye-Faye, Edward didn't tell Spike-person. Spike-person heard you talking outside the room and asked Edward where Faye-Faye would be going, and Edward told him."

I was sure steam was coming out of my ears by that point, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders as they hunched over, fists clenched. My hair fell into my face, blocking my view of that damned smirk.

I saw him stand up, still spinning the key in his fingers like a stylus. His smirk hadn't changed any, but it was more infuriating for some reason.

"I'll let you go on one condition," he said.

How dare he set terms?! That bastard, that ass, that...

Handsome yet infuriating man.

"What is it, Spike?" I gritted out.

"If you get the bounty, you give a quarter of it to me and Jet. That way, if you loose at the races, you can at least contribute to some food. I'm tired of beef and peppers."

I wished that he hadn't seen my fist coming. Having him dodge that easy just makes me madder. And since he also grabbed my wrist to keep me from swinging again, we wound up chest to chest for a moment, staring at each other.

We just stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. I could smell him, the scent of smoke and confidence, of gunsmoke and sweat. I just looked at him for a moment, my wrist tingling with the touch of his fingers. I put a hand on his chest for balance and just looked into his eyes.

He looked at me, the smirk faded and the cigarette just dangling from his lips loosely.

We stared at each other for a moment, then I backed up, and he started rubbing the back of his neck, looking rather confused.

I started walking away, still hunched into the 'Don't-bother-me-or-I'll-deck-you' stance. Once I reached the hanger, I reached into the pocket of my sweater and pulled out the key that I palmed from Spike before that moment of frozen time. I sat in the pilot's couch for a moment, just holding the key.

What had that been? I've never just stared at him dumbfounded before, let alone have the look returned.

I shook my head. _Focus, Faye. Ten thousand Woolongs. _

I gritted my teeth as I started the Redtail up, remembering Spike's 'deal.' How dare he tell me what to do with my money?

But then again, they did put up with a lot of my drama, mostly created to keep them from prying into my history. And they gave me a place to stay, shelter and food when we had it. It really wasn't too much that he asked for a bit of help with the groceries.

I sighed. I was going soft in my old age. I mean, I was almost 25 now. My youth was slipping away faster than the supply of cigarettes on the Bebop. I cranked the Redtail into gear and guided it out of the hanger.

But as I flew away, his face kept coming to mind. The small scars and lines that life had deposited the eyes that seemingly saw nothing yet everything at the same time. That mop of disheveled, spiked hair. That smug smile.

And the look that he had given me just before I pushed him away, that look of surprise, as though he was seeing me for the first time.

Who was Spike Speigel, anyhow? What was behind that cynical smile and cocky grin?

Why did it suddenly matter to me?

"Damn him," I said as I hit the radio button, tuning in a pop song just as it hit it's chorus. It was in Japanese, but for some reason it made me kind of stare at the radio for a moment, an odd feeling in my gut.

_Kawaita hitomi de dareka na itekure_

_The real folk blues  
Honto no kanashimi ga shiritaidake  
Doro no kawa ni sukatta jinsei mo warukuwanai  
Ichido kiri de owarunara_

Huh. That was wierd. Though I kind of like the song, nice beat and catchy horn section.

Just wish I understood what the hell was being said.


	7. Interlude: Snowball Fight

The night air was a bit colder than I had thought it was going to be, and I held my arms tight around my body as we walked from the bar. I felt an arm drape itself across my shoulders and the wing of his trench coat settled around me, drawing me in with its warmth. I smiled and slid an arm about his waist, snuggling in as much as I could without disrupting our walking.

I knew he had something planned. I didn't know what, but it was enough to make him grin more often than usual. I could also see it in his eyes, the smug satisfaction of something he felt going right.

I slapped a hand against his belly playfully. "So, cowboy, where are we going?"

He smirked. "I thought we'd go and take in the sights in the park. They'll have the decorations up for Christmas. I seem to recall you saying that you loved looking at the lights.

I blushed. I had said that, something that my family did when I was little. We'd pile into the car and tour the neighborhood, looking at the 'neatos', as I called them. It was a sweet touch, something thoughtful.

"If I had known, I'd have brought another jacket," I said, pulling the lip of his closer around my shoulder.

"You got a problem with being tucked in with me?" he asked, a taunt in his voice.

"What if I do?" I retorted, facing him and halting our progress. I tilted my head invitingly.

He shrugged. "Well, I could relearn how to sleep alone, but we've already turned your room into an exercise gym."

He was still chuckling when I shoved him into the snowdrift.

Bastard drug me with him.

Good thing it's always warm when he kisses me.

* * *

Snow went right down the collar of my shirt. That was going to be cold later.

Well, at the rate things were going, before too long, snow down the back of a shirt won't be a big problem, really.

I shake the snow out of my hair and sit up. "Now what warranted that, Ms. Valentine?"

She snickered. "That's what you get for spurning a woman," she said, a haughty tone in her voice.

"Well, what do I get for doing this?" I asked, leaning forward.

She smiled.

At that point the snowball I had scooped together with one hand nailed her in the face. She sat there for a moment, surprise on her face. Then she was up, scooping up double handfuls of snow herself.

It felt good to stop acting our age for a little while. I didn't feel self-conscious about having a snow fight with her as I would have anyone else. I ducked behind a fence, dodging a slushball and made another snowball, poking my head out just in time to catch the next one she threw full in the face.

I sputtered and shook it out of my face and hair.

Time for plan b.

I grabbed a huge handful and ran up to her, sending her shrieking away. I caught her and wrapped one arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground and made to try and shove the snow down the back of her collar.

My empty hand, ignored for the most part, dropped the velvet box into the pocket of her sweater. Then she kicked, knocking me off balance, depositing me on my back with the handful of snow going right into my face.

Heh. I'll go with it.

Goal was accomplished, anyway.

* * *

I can't help but laugh. He tried to drop a handful of snow down my blouse and wound up with it in his face instead. I get up and brush off my skirt, holding out a hand to help him up. He took it and stood, knocking snow off his clothes and then his hair. I ran a hand through my hair as well, fingers brushing through the tresses with ease. It was longer now, brushing against my shoulders.

He pecks me on the nose, grinning like a kid. Now I know something's up. I mean, sure, that was fun, but he's got that cow eating grin at full power. The only other times I've seen him smile like that is when teases me with the key to the Redtail. Normally it means he's pulled off some prank or scam.

I stick my hands in his back pockets. "Just what are you smiling about, Spike Speigel?"

"You'll find out," he said cryptically, the grin not fading.

I eyed him for another minute, then slid around so his jacket was covering me again, guiding him towards the hotel with a finger hooked through a belt loop.

"I suppose I have to teach you that trying to dump snow down a lady's clothes isn't nice," I said, leaning my head against his chest.

"Yeah, but you aren't exactly complaining about the outcome of that fight, I notice," he said, kissing the top of my head.

I shrug and pull in close as a particularly cold breeze blows past.

We reach the hotel and get a room on the fifth floor. As the elevator starts up, I stick my hands in the pockets of my sweater.

Hmm?

What's this?

Oh.

Oh my...

* * *

I see the look on her face as she opens the box. I can't help but smile at her shock. If jaws really could drop, hers would have been on the floor of the car. I turn and look at her.

"Something wrong, Faye?"

She was just staring at the box, not moving, not speaking. She takes the ring out of the box and just stares at it, not believing. She tears her eyes from the ring, looking at me.

I guess it was a good choice. It had a perfectly round diamond in the center, flanked by two stones the same shade as her eyes. The silver metal set off her skin tone perfectly, I thought.

Her jaw worked, trying to form words. I chuckled as I took it and slid it onto her hand. A perfect fit, of course. "Spike," she manages to get out.

I was already dropping to a knee. I may have a devil-may-care about most things, but I wanted to do this right.

"Faye," I started. She didn't let me get any further. She hauled me up by the jacket and kissed me fully.

"Do you really have to ask?" she said.

I chuckle. "I guess not,"

She smiles at me as we walk towards the hotel room. "I must say," she begins.

"What?" I ask.

"Well, you have good taste." She said.

I shrugged. "That's what you get when your dad runs a jewelry store," I said.

She smiled. "So, this is what you had planned all night," she said, as though accusing me of eating the last doughnut.

Which I've done on occasion and gotten called on it.

"I'm not done yet," I said.

She perked an eyebrow up. "Oh?"

I nodded.

Wait till she saw what I asked Jet and Ed to do while we were gone.


	8. Session 5: Don't Say a Word

The song fit my mood perfectly. I just sat back and listened to the group, downing my fifth whiskey sour.

_I am the voice that can't be found  
The lamp that's meant to fade away  
(I let go of the record)  
Who's side I'm choking on this life? _

I think I tolerate your hate  
As long as you're afraid  
All I wanted was to be with you  
( And suffer every day)

Under the moon I hold a way  
for a promise torn  
Mortality wounded, that feeling sheltered me  
Once again, my shadow will enter your life  
look I led you way down the night

Mother always said:  
My son, do the noble thing  
You have to finish what you started  
No matter what, now sit watch and learn  
It is not how long you live  
But what your morals say  
Can't keep your part of the deal  
So don't say a word  
Don't say a word

It wont be long now love,  
Black mist, I slowly feel the hate  
I place the candle on your chest  
The path of night has manifest

I never wanted us to end  
I feel this scattered dying phase  
It wasn't me who ran away  
You made me stray

Open your blue eyes  
Tell me that you love me whore  
Make me believe it, oh I know you lie  
Broke the vow I thought you made my angel lie  
Settling the score  
Think past the twilight

Mother always said:  
My son, do the noble thing  
You have to finish what you started  
No matter what, now sit watch and learn  
It is not how long you live  
But what your morals say  
Cant keep your part of the deal  
So don't say a word  
Don't Say A Word

I'm very blind  
you struggle on, but my heart is about to end  
I somehow slide sometimes.  
It doesn't go the way it was meant.

Though you never were a believer, (yet)  
I will purify you.  
You read the book now, (goodbye)  
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Closing your eyes, don't ever say you love me, whore  
You never meant the word, I know you lied  
When there is life there is despair you taught me, now  
I see your alive this night  
I promise you the end before the first light arrives

Mother always said:  
My son, do the noble thing  
You have to finish what you started  
No matter what, now sit watch and learn  
It is not how long you live  
But what your morals say  
Cant keep your part of the deal  
So don't say a word  
Don't Say A Word

I raised my hand and motioned for another drink. The bartender shook his head as he fixed it.

How could she just leave me there? I waited in the cemetery for hours, getting soaked. Even now I could still feel the chill despite the dry clothes and liquor running in my veins.

Him. It had to be him. That bastard. I can't believe him.

What do I do? This ache just won't go away, no matter how many drinks I take.

I hear the crash of a table falling over, and glance up at the two people pointing guns at each other in some sort of fight.

I ignore it as I pick up my sixth whiskey sour. Then someone crashes into my table, causing it to tip up and knock the elixir out of my hand.

That's it.

Five minutes later, all four of them are on the ground groaning and the ISSP are cuffing them. One of the cops comes up to me and shakes my hand.

"Thanks a lot, pal. We've been tracking these guys for weeks." He hands me a cash card.

I take it and look at it stupidly. "What's this?" I ask.

He looks at me. "That's the bounty they've got on them. Two hundred and seventy thousand Woolongs."

I look at the card, my mind reeling. That was a lot of money to just hand to someone.

"I don't always like dealing with you Cowboys, but you do come in handy at times." He started walking away.

A Cowboy?

He thought I was a Cowboy?

Why not? I mean, it's not like I have any other ideas what to do now.

I tuck the cash card away and walk up to the bar.

A prairie oyster ought to clear my head up enough to do some planning. First I'd need a vehicle. And I know just the person to see about it.

It's been a while since I've seen old Doohan. It'd be great to see if he's still got that old relic of his.

This could be the start of something great.

But why do I feel a bit pensive about it?


	9. Session 6: Evasive Shuffle

Free will sucks.

I wish that someone did control my life, guide me through the places I needed to be when I needed to be there. Then I wouldn't have this debt, wouldn't have to run all the time.

Damn, he's gaining.

The debt collector was right behind the Red Tail, trying to get a lock on her. I send her into a dive, rolling under a bridge and curving up again, hoping he'd nail one of the support pylons.

No such luck.

It was getting annoying. I was running low on fuel and he was hanging on my tail like cellulose on thighs. I had to shake him, make him crash, _something_, and soon.

I look down at the rocket launcher on the arms of my little ship. I had one rocket left, but I couldn't fire backwards. Nor did I want to hurt someone, even a debt collector.

Well, almost didn't. I wanted to put a good foot in his ass.

I climbed, trying to loose him in the sun glare, then nosed over into a power dive, screaming towards the planet at twice the rated speed that my craft should have been able to hit.

It worked. For a moment he lost sight of me, and I sped towards a rock outcropping and targeted the spire with the rocket.

When the dust cleared, it looked as though I had plowed into the side of the mountain and detonated. And the fact that whoever was in the interceptor bought it showed that he was a rookie as far as skip tracing went. That was one of the oldest tricks on the list.

After an hour, I eased out of the small crevice I had crept into and began to head towards the nearby town leisurely. I had some breathing room now, time to hope that I would hit it big at the casino.

It was about that time that bullets peppered the rear of the Red Tail.

I look behind me and see that he wasn't fooled by my trick.

Damn.

It would figure I'd have Boba Fett on my ass.

Boba Fett?

Where'd that name come from?

I had flashes like that, memories that didn't quite make sense. But for the most part, they didn't come, dark scenes I couldn't pry into the light.

So there we were, back at square one with me trying to get away and him trying to blow me out of the sky.

About average for a Monday, actually.

"Damned parasite, go away!" I said as I cranked the controls over and tried to get behind him to fire back. My ship was more maneuverable, his a bit faster, but we were equal in armaments. So it was a slugging match.

I hate slugging matches.

To make a long story short, I more or less had to crash the Red Tail into a river and swim five miles downstream to a town where I wound up working a casino, getting chased, getting caught, forced to work at a casino as part of a covert trade off,and having a run-in with some tall green-haired lunkhead that caused my blood pressure to shoot through the roof.

Why can't I have a simple life with easy pickings and deep pockets?

Crap, I'm out of fuel. I wonder if anyone is close enough to pick up my transmissions.


	10. Refrain: Lightnin' Blues

A/N: sorry, I'm trying to keep from doing this with this fic, but it needed to be said. This is just a short chapter, showing what goes through their heads in the middle of the night.

* * *

Faye's asleep. She always seems more angelic when she's asleep. 

Maybe that's what she is, the angel that guided me towards salvation.

And maybe I'm the king of Mars. But she is my angel.

She shifts against my side, draping her arm a little lower about my body. I look down, seeing her indigo hair spread across my chest like a curtain. She mumbled something as she dozed, prompting me to smile.

How could I not ask her what I did?

Images drifted across my mind, the times we fought, the times we worked together. Seeing her in that casino uniform, something made me want to sit down and get to know her. And, of course, during the course of that game, she also made me want to annoy her. So I deliberately kept that chip from her, toying with her.

Heh. She's gotten me back a thousand times over by now.

I kiss the top of her head, settling back into the pillows, closing my eyes and letting myself drift off, the sound of the freezing rain pelting the window creating a rhythm that makes it easy to relax.

Faye…

* * *

He's asleep. I don't know what it was that woke me up; maybe it was him shifting in his sleep. 

He looks so innocent when he's asleep, so unlike him. I see his face in the flare of a lightning bolt.

What a lunkhead. But he's MY lunkhead, MINE.

I go over things that have happened in our lives. Dragging him home to the Bebop after his brash rescue at the church, the various capers we've been on. It took me a while to admit it, but he was the reason I stayed on the Bebop as long as I did.

I look at the ring adorning my finger now, still in shock over it. I pull it off and look at the engraving within.

_FVV&HES, the bounty is love._

He had his true initials carved in. Showing me yet again the softer side he had.

The side of him only I got to see. Me.

It makes me feel special. Slipping the ring back on, I settle in against his side again.

Between his breathing, the rain, and the occasional roll of thunder, it's so hard to stay awake.

Spike…


End file.
